


Red & Orange

by chaoticamanda



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Humor, M/M, Mpreg, a bit of a crack fic kind of, but i really wanted to write it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 16:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2074845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticamanda/pseuds/chaoticamanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They hadn’t been hanging around any aliens this time. They had been parked in the shade for over an hour, doing their usual thing. It had only been the two of them. Only, now there was going to be three.</p><p>Based on a tumblr post.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red & Orange

They hadn’t been hanging around any aliens this time. They had been parked in the shade for over an hour, doing their usual thing. It had only been the two of them. Only, now there was going to be three.

 

The best gauge anyone had for a male pregnancy was Tucker, and even then it was pretty sketchy. The baby daddy had been an alien, after all. In this case, Grif was the father or impregnator or whatever he was supposed to be called and Simmons was the unhappy, impregnated cyborg, who kept saying over and over again that it simply wasn’t possible.

 

First off, Simmons was a cyborg. Second, he was a _dude!_ Dudes weren’t supposed to have babies, and Simmons had never thought to use protection because he didn’t even have a uterus! The other’s collectively agreed that Simmons _was_ pregnant, that there was no other explanation for the bump in his stomach pressed against his maroon armor, and that it wasn’t totally impossible.

 

Tucker was at the front of this list, for once not denying the fact that he had been a father. Alas, the little alien fucker had been “adopted”, and lost to the system. No one commented on the fact that Tucker’s voice faltered from fondness to something less. Church still actively proclaimed that everyone here was “fucking ludicrous”, but he could offer no other explanation.

 

Finally, when Doc arrived at the request of Donut, it was medically confirmed that the cyborg and fatty couple were expecting a baby. Truthfully, it was more of a hope than an expectancy for the offspring to even be a human baby. Donut gleefully shouted that he was going to throw them the best baby shower _ever._ Of all time.

 

“Free food,” Grif had shrugged.

 

* * *

 

 

It turned out to be the worst baby shower _ever_. Of all time. The “free food” Grif had managed to inhale at an alarming pace turned out to be part of one of Donut’s baby-shower-games, “Guess the baby food flavor!”. Sarge hollered that if they can escape another game like “Pin the diaper on the baby!” then there was a slightly smaller chance of him shooting them. Church offered to go retrieve the bullets, but Wash caught a small grin crawling onto his face now and then.

 

Caboose had managed to set a record for asking the same question over fifty times, and they began to realize that he really had no clue what goes into making a baby, and only a little knowledge of what even comes out. Tucker attempted to drown him out by shouting that they never threw  _him_ a baby shower, claiming that Donut is and was prejudiced against interracial aliens.

 

Simmons quietly wondered how his life had come to this, but can’t deny that he likes the way Grif is humoring Doc by pretending to listen to his parenting tips.

 

* * *

 

By the time Simmons was roughly five or six months pregnant, he had made a significant dent in Grif’s food stash, and Grif was not quiet about it. It caused a small fight between the two that ended with a lame comeback and the usual forgiveness. Simmons had caught Grif hiding the maroon soldier’s favorite snacks more than he’d used to, but he never said anything about it.

 

The same night they had the stupid fight was the same night that Grif quietly and thoughtfully asked,  “What if the kid sends you a fax through your ass?”

 

Simmons was completely dumbfounded by the whole new level of stupidity he had been faced with. It took half an hour to explain to Grif that “cyborgness” was not hereditary. A few days later, Lopez commented to no one that he was pleasantly surprised by the extra amount of motor oil stocked in red base.

 

* * *

 

Seven months in, Church and Tucker begin to take bets on how lazy and how big of a nerd the kid will be, having been raised by Simmons. It takes them another half hour to explain to Caboose that Nerd was not just a brand of candy and would not be the race of the baby, but that they had, in fact, meant that the kid would be annoyingly smart. They gave up after the half hour and sought out Wash to take his bet.

 

Donut and Doc spent most of their time planning this and thats for the new red team recruit. Private Donut absolutely insisted on lace being incorporated into the the baby’s nursery, with the right color pallet, of course. Doc offhandedly hinted at the two having their own “impossible baby”, since its become a trend. Or they _could_ raise the baby together, adopting it.

 

Grif didn’t seem all that opposed to it, but Simmons felt somewhat opposed. Excitement had been mixed into his wild hormones and he wanted to get something out of this horrible experience of swollen ankles and back aches. What was the point of being pregnant if you didn’t get something out of it? Like a baby, perse.

 

* * *

 

 

On a beautiful Tuesday morning, the whole outpost is awoken by Simmons screaming profanities. Doc exclaims that the baby is ready to come out, because Tucker had been the same way. Grif is panicking, stress-eating his food stash, and resisting Wash and Tucker when they try to take his food away from him. The baby comes out screaming from one of his father’s abdomens. He’s got dark, curly hair and skin that is light enough to spot some freckles, but only barely. The whole group is in awe, and Sarge even sheds a single tear. He claims is what the indoor sun in his eyes, but Donut is crying right along next to him, so no one comments on it too much.

 

“This is our baby, Grif,” Simmons says softly, feeling a love that surpassed his cyborg control as he looked down at his chubby little son.

 

“What’s his name?” Caboose asks, tilting his head at the odd and very confusing scene before him. Before Grif or Simmons can answer, Caboose shouts in answer to himself, “You should name him Freckles! I love that name! It is a great name!”

 

Everyone ignores him, used to his stupid “epiphanies”. “What about...Duncan? Dick, Dexter, and Duncan,” Grif replies nervously, watching his child from afar. It’s hard to fucking believe, as Church has eloquently put before.

 

“Yeah...Duncan…” Simmons says, lost in the round face of the baby. For a moment, no one hears the clunking of Donut running to the room they are all crammed into.

 

“I had...a special...suit made...for our little...bundle of joy!” he pants, holding a small suit of armor high for everyone to see it.

 

“What...what color is that?” Wash hesitantly asks, glancing between the new couple.

 

“Oh, it’s a kind of, like...blood orange!” Donut gushes, but everyone blocks him out after that. Tucker leans against the wall, shaking his head at the people he’s come to call friends.

 

Church reclines next to him, looking over at his teammate, “Whaddya think?”

 

Tucker purses his lips, “I think it's fucking _red.”_

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry.


End file.
